Chapter 108
Chapter 108:
“Those aren’t exactly romantic qualities,” she said.
“Aren’t they?” The corner of his mouth lifted. “I don’t want some fragile flower, Rose. I want an equal. Someone who understands that power is never given, it must be taken.”
The words resonated deep within her. No one had ever seen her so clearly before. Not her adoptive parents, certainly not Stefan, and especially not Camille. They had all wanted her to be something else—grateful, loving, supportive. None of them had valued the hunger that drove her. But Herod did. He saw it, understood it, admired it.
“And if I don’t want a partnership?” she asked, testing him.
His eyes hardened slightly. “Then we finish our plan. Destroy Kane Industries. Get our revenge. And part ways as… what? Successful co-conspirators?”
The thought of walking away after it was done, of never seeing Herod again, left an unexpected hollow feeling in Rose’s chest. She reached up, covering his hand with hers where it rested against her face.
“And if I do want it?” she asked softly.
Something flared in his eyes—triumph, desire, relief? Rose couldn’t tell. Before she could analyze it further, Herod leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.
The kiss was nothing like she expected. Not calculated or controlling or cold. It was hungry, almost desperate, as if he had been holding himself back for weeks. His hands slid into her hair, cradling her head as the kiss deepened. Rose found herself responding with equal intensity, her fingers gripping the lapels of his expensive suit.
For so long, she had channeled all her passion into hatred, into destroying Camille. This new outlet for her emotions felt dangerously liberating.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, the storm outside had intensified. Rain lashed against the windows, and thunder rumbled through the sky.
“Well,” Herod said, his voice rougher than usual. “I suppose that answers the question.”
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Rose laughed, a real laugh, without the bitterness that usually colored her humor. “I’m not that easy to read.”
“No,” he agreed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You’re not. That’s part of what fascinates me.”
He led her to the black leather sofa facing the wall of windows. They sat close, the electricity between them almost as palpable as the lightning outside.
“You know,” Rose said, curling her legs beneath her, “this complicates things.”
“How so?”
“When we started this, it was purely business. Revenge. Clean and simple.” She traced a pattern on the leather between them. “Now it’s…”
“Personal,” he finished for her.
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